


Dragon's Dogma: Assorted Drabbles

by julien_schu



Category: Dragon's Dogma
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, Drama, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-30 01:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julien_schu/pseuds/julien_schu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assorted Dragon's Dogma drabbles and ficlets, mostly about the Arisen and his pawns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ser Maximilian and the Arisen

 

 

At first he thought of it as purely respect, and then professional admiration. The youth after all, had already achieved some considerable feats, compared to his own more modest accomplishments in his twenty-eight summers. But when his cheeks started to feel warm and his heart started to pace just so when the youth approached, he knew he was in a—

“Pickle.”

The Arisen stared at him. “I… beg your pardon?”

“No-” he started, then coughed. “Nothing. I was feeling a little peckish, and apparently hungry enough to think aloud.”

“I see,” the younger man replied in a way that clearly indicated that he did not, and the Captain of the Wyrm Hunt wished for a wyvern to swoop down from the skies, a cockatrice, Salvation—anything spectacular enough to blot this embarrassing occasion from everyone’s memory.

“What brings you here?” he asked, and then promptly felt like flinging himself off the ramparts.

The Arisen blinked. “The Wyrm Hunts, what else?”

“Oh, of course.” What else indeed. He felt that should he survive the ramparts, he would attempt the cliffs next. And if he still survived the cliffs, then the Brine would hopefully take him, or at the very least spirit him far, far away.

He listened to the Arisen’s report, then dutifully gave the youth the details for his next assignment. Once he was done, he thought that was the end of it, but the Arisen was fond of proving people wrong.

“This is for you. You mentioned that you were fond of penning a few lines in your spare time, and it’s hard to find a good quill to write with,” said the Arisen, handing him a magnificent specimen; a strong white feather from some bird of prey, its barbs already stripped.

“With all that I am, I thank you,” he said, hoping that his face did not match the hue of his clothes. Judging from the Arisen’s grin before the younger man left, it was likely that he had failed. Most spectacularly.

He carefully tucked the quill in the folds of his surcoat, all the time aware that he was obviously treating the writing implement with the same care accorded to a treasured token from a loved one. And if the snickering from behind him was indeed, as he suspected, from his own men…

Well, they seemed to be rather lax in their duties lately, so perhaps a few hours of drills would do them some good. If it did not improve their discipline, it should at the very least teach them to laugh more _quietly._

There were certain privileges of being a captain, after all.

 


	2. Dragonforging Adventures

“It’s a drake! Come on, let’s kill it so we can dragonforge some equipment!”

“But Master-“

“Oh wait, I believe all my things are already dragonforged. I know! Give me whatever you have that I can equip!”

“But Master-“

“Ridiculous rule, assassins can’t wear things warriors can, and all that. Yes, that and that will do, give them to me. Now to put that on….”

“But Master-“

“Right! Everyone ready? Let’s go!”

_“MASTER!”_

“What now?”

“I will kill for you, heal you, and even die for you, but I refuse to go into battle _without wearing any pants!”_

“....”

“....”

“Oh, like there’s anyone around to see. Now let’s go after that drake! That means the two of you too, so come on!”

“....”

“Poor bastard.”

“I’ll be the most relieved pawn in the Rift when he releases me from contract.”

“You and me, mate.”


	3. A Pawn's Loyalty

 

“That was really brave of you to stay close to me during that battle.”

“It was my pleasure, Master.”

“But you don’t need to stay that close next time. You could have been killed - well, I’d bring you back anyway but that’s not the point - so you should keep at a safer distance!”

“Yes Master, but-“

“Although I must admit seeing you cast those spells up close was a sight!”

“Yes Master, but-“

“Loyalty and all that is one thing, but there’s no need for you to literally stay by my side at all times-“

_“Master!”_

“What?”

“That wasn’t why I stayed so close to you in our previous battle!”

“…then what?”

“That dragon had stepped on the edge of my cloak and I simply could not flee elsewhere.”

“Oh.”


	4. Are you sure that's Ambrosial Meat?

 

“Minnow, what’s that you got there to sell this time? Oh! Is that… oh my, it is! Ambrosial meat! And you’ve got them all nice and soured up too! Best way to eat it!”

“Well, Aestella, you can have them if you like…”

“What, for free? Oh, no! You’ve done more than enough for me and the whole village, I couldn’t possibly take those off you without paying for them! Here, I’ll take all those meats you have, and I’ll pay you their worth. No, I don’t want to hear it - take the coin, and spend it on some supplies. If not for you, then for those pawns of yours.”

“Well… if you say so.”

“Right! Now run along, dear.”

“Master?”

“Yes?”

“Why were you hesitant on selling those ambrosial meats to Aestella? Or even consuming them for yourself - and why are you shuddering, Master?”

“You do realise we got them off that Ur-Dragon.”

“And?”

“And you told me that the Ur-Dragon’s flesh is made up from the hearts of defeated Arisen.”

“…  _oh._  Perhaps eating them was not a good idea, Master.”

“Obviously. Now let’s go before she serves any of that meat to us or something.”


	5. Pawns Are Smarter Than You Think

“Do you have any clothes that might fit me? Since I’ve only the ones on my back.”

“Try looking in my spare pack. There, in the corner by the bed,” he replied as he immediately went to the pot at the hearth, hoping that Selene would have some kind of meal ready.

There were sounds of faint rustling as his new lover rummaged in his spare pack. The sounds of his hungry stomach however, were much louder.

“What’s this?”

“What’s what?” he replied half-heartedly, more interested in seeking some sustenance to sate his appetite.

_“This.”_

Why did his lover sound so amused?

He turned, and then blinked.

“This is yours, is it not?”

He looked around for assistance from any one of his pawns, only to find an empty room. The pawns were supposedly soulless and unemotional creatures, but they were also smart and knew enough when to avoid unnecessary danger or complications.

Or in this case, utter embarrassment.

The bastards.

Swore to live and die for him, their fucking arses.

“Um.”

“Care to explain?” his beloved asked with a most amused grin, lifting the red gown he had been forced to wear as a disguise in order to convince a certain female bandit leader to part with a stupid trinket.

“Um,” he repeated, desperately wishing for someone to cast a High Seism spell so the earth would swallow him whole.

Outside by the window, one of the pawns sniggered.

_The_   _bastards!_


	6. The Adventures of a Very Young Arisen

The pawn legion knew that their masters the Arisen would come in what the some of the humans liked to say, ‘all shapes and sizes’. Male or female, young or old, and various other physical differences that made humans so fascinating.

This Arisen in particular however, was very young.

Very, very young.

The pawns simply had no idea that this time they would not only have to kneel down in respect of the Arisen, but also in order to be on the same eye level.

 

—x-x-x—

While the Master was indeed young, he was relatively mature for his age. He insisted on doing almost everything himself, hardly complained about having to travel and though had some initial difficulties with certain weapons, had apparently received enough training from the chief of Cassardis to be reasonably proficient with a bow and arrow.

Still, they were bound to face some problems sooner or later.

Like now.

“They’re masterworks all, you can’t go wrong.”

“I’d like some armour, please.”

“For your father then?”

“No, for me.”

“Clear off son, before I smack you one.”

“But I’m serious!”

“So am I. Go home.”

He watched the Master stomp one foot in frustration before leaving the amused shopkeeper. “The man won’t believe me,” the Master complained, and he noted that the Master’s lower lip was trembling.

Ah.

He sighed and picked up the Master, settled the child in his arms and patted the Master’s back in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. “There, there, Master,” he said gently, “I shall talk with the shopkeeper—”

“—the mean shopkeeper!”

“Yes, the mean shopkeeper and see if he could be persuaded to deal with us.”

The Master sniffed once, then nodded furiously before burying his face in the pawn’s shoulder.

“Please don’t cry, Master,” the pawn soothed - well, pleaded actually, for he had no idea what he was supposed to do to make things right. “Perhaps we should just go to the inn and rest? It’s been a long day. Surely things would improve the next morning,” he suggested.

It seemed to be the right thing to do, for the Master nodded. “Will you tell me a story before I go to bed?” the Master said in a tiny voice.

The pawn nodded. “Anything you wish, Master,” he replied, and reminded himself not to let the ranger of the party to have a turn at bedtime storytelling since all his tales ended with ‘and then Master died.’

 

—x-x-x—

Somewhere in the ruins of Tainted Mountain, a massive wyrm was laughing in amusement.


	7. The Adventures of a Very Young Arisen II

The battle was long and toilsome, and a number of Gran Soren’s men fell before the griffin they had pursued finally succumbed to their arrows, blades and spells. The huge creature now lay motionless atop the Bluemoon Tower, its carcass prime for looting.

The ranger-pawn noted that his pawn companions were retrieving what they could from the now-dead griffin and the various chests scattered as the myrmidon headed for their young Master, who stood still as he watched the Duke’s men tend to their wounded.

“Are you all right, Master?” he asked.

The Master nodded, but the pawn noticed that the child’s shoulders were shaking. “Master?” he tried again, and was startled when the Arisen rushed to embrace him, the child burying his face in the pawn’s clothes.

The ranger-pawn looked around in panic for his comrades and any assistance, but they were either unaware of his and the Arisen’s current predicament, or simply chose to be blissfully obtuse. Fortunately, the mage (finally!) noticed and made some kind of lifting gesture with his hands, wherein the pawn stared for a bit before he realised that his companion was telling him to pick up their young Master.

He tried to mimic how the mothers in Gransys carried their young children and somehow managed to awkwardly settle the child in his arms, whom now seemed content to sniffle into his shoulder.

“What’s the matter, Master?” he asked. Then he tried to pat the young Arisen on the back, but apparently used just a little more force than necessary, as the child coughed rather violently. He winced and tried again, this time more gently.

The mage shook a fist at him. The ranger cringed.

“Mmghfgmm hrff mrgghmmm,” the Arisen mumbled into the pawn’s now-damp shoulder; whether damp from tears, snot or drool, or even all three, the pawn could not be certain.

“I beg your pardon, Arisen?”

“I couldn’t save them,” the boy repeated, more clearly this time. “The guards.”

“That is true, Master,” he agreed and then promptly yelped when a small object hit the back of his head.

Wait, did the mage just - just _threw a rock_ at him?

The mage frowned and then waved his hands about in a series of complicated gestures which he obviously expected his ranger compatriot to understand. Some of the Master’s own puzzling behaviour must have rubbed off on him, the ranger mused.

_Well if he’s so bloody concerned about the Master then he can come and comfort the child himself,_ the ranger thought, and for a moment considered tossing the Arisen to his mage companion.

Then he remembered the mage’s penchant for burning everything that moved, and decided against it. While pawns could not really die, returning to the Rift in a rather singed form was not exactly appealing either.

“It’s all right, Master,” he began, and then flailed about in his mind with how best to continue. He remembered how one mother in Cassardis managed to calm a crying babe by walking around and making soothing noises, so he tried to do the same. Although his companions later noted that the so-called soothing noises he made sounded more like the death cries of wild hogs, the trick seemed to work.

“Look Master, that is your home right there,” he pointed out for the benefit of the Arisen once they were near the edge of the tower. Not too near though, for the ranger’s keen eyes had observed that the mage had rearmed himself - _Maker’s breath, was that a brick?_ \- and was eyeing them closely.

The Arisen stopped his sniffling long enough to gaze at the small fishing village, which looked even tinier when viewed from such a distance.

“Master is upset that he could not save everyone, I know,” he said, although he guessed more than he knew but that was a mere technicality the Arisen need not concern himself with. “But that is the way the world works. Sometimes we simply cannot help everyone. Some will live, and some will die. Even the full might of the pawn legion may not be enough to save the Masters we serve.”

“Then what should we do?” the young Arisen asked, his voice tiny.

“We simply do the best we can for those that remain, like the ones Master cares about in Cassardis,” the ranger replied, hoping that would satisfy the Master - and more importantly, the Master’s mage companion.

He closed his eyes and braced himself for an oncoming brick. The blow did not come, so he guessed that he must have said something right.

And when the Master smiled at him, he was certain that he did.

Well, besides the fact that the mage put that rather hefty brick back down.


	8. A Pawn's Thoughts on the Ur-Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the following prompt: a pawn's thoughts on fighting the Ur-Dragon knowing it is full of previous Arisen's hearts.

He was considered very young by his kind’s standards. Though he had the appearance of a full-grown man, in reality, he was barely over a year old. The Master had summoned him from the vast nothingness of the Rift and forged him into the physical form he now wore, and was quite accustomed to. The Master had also made him in the image of someone who held an important place in the Master’s life, that much he knew, but of whom he did not know, and nor did he think was it proper of him to ask.

  

The Master had grown in terms of wisdom and skill since the time he first emerged from the Rift, and so did he. Though many things still puzzled him – humans are such complex and difficult creatures, and the Arisen was no exception – he managed to get by with some assistance from his fellow pawns, though admittedly some were more helpful than others, due to their own considerable years of experience with their Arisen and other humans.

 

One of the more helpful pawns was Barnaby, the head of the Pawn Guild in the city of Gran Soren. He often sought Barnaby for advice, for the pawn was more reliable than most. It was to the Pawn Guild the pawn now headed off to in the night, as his Master slept soundly in the safety of his bed, while his other companions rested and guarded the Arisen.

 

“Barnaby?” he called out when he arrived. (Master had always stressed on the importance of announcing one’s arrival, after several incidents of startling random people well out of their wits and into spasms of fright. The pawn had thought that it was a virtue to be stealthy of movement, but apparently that was applicable mostly in combat.)

 

“Here,” the other pawn replied, waving a hand from his seat at one of the tables in the guild. “Is there anything I can do for you? Whatever it is, it must be terribly important, or else I doubt you would have sought me at this late an hour.”

 

“I seek advice.”

 

“If I can offer you some, then I will give it. What about?” Barnaby replied, at the same time setting some of the parchment on the table aside.

 

"The Arisen wishes to visit the Chamber of Lament.”

 

Barnaby paused noticeably before he folded his hands in his lap. “He wishes to fight the Ur-Dragon, you mean.”

 

“Yes. Have you ever seen the beast? Or fought it?”

 

Barnaby replied with a question instead. “What do you know of it?”

 

The pawn shook his head. “Very little. I only know that the Ur-Dragon is a massive beast and that those who defeat it are greatly rewarded.”

 

The head of the Pawn Guild leaned back further into his chair – a very human-like gesture, the pawn noted – and stared off into a distance for several long, silent moments. He seemed to be… reminiscing.

 

"Barnaby?"

 

"The Ur-Dragon is indeed a massive beast. An undead thing, with the wings spanning the breadth of houses. The dragonkin that litter the land are nothing compared to it."

 

The pawn listened, at the same time feeling a strange sensation in his chest; his more experienced companions would tell him later that it was likely concern for his Master. Their party had defeated the drake that lingered at the Devilfire Grove, but only just, and it took a few days before the Master fully recovered from his wounds. 

 

"The beast commands powerful magic," Barnaby continued. "Powerful enough to at least rival, if not surpass  _the_  Dragon. It is swathed in black flame and its breath would melt everything in its path. The Arisen had better be well-prepared if he wishes to fight the Ur-Dragon.”

 

"One of the pawns in our party has experience with the greater dragonkin. Surely that ought to be of help."

 

"Yes, it would. But there is one thing that makes the Ur-Dragon so different from its living brethren," Barnaby said, his tone cautioning. "It has not one, but many, many hearts."

 

The pawn was silent for a few moments, trying to fully understand this. “Why?” he asked when he could not.

 

"Who knows? Perhaps it is a mockery of what it uses to disguise its true form – a beast of rotting flesh and bone." Barnaby shook his head briefly and stared at the pawn before he continued, "The Ur-Dragon’s flesh is made up of the hearts of the countless Arisen who tried to defeat it, and failed."

 

"But how-"

 

"-did it obtain their hearts, as those hearts are held by the dragons that marked them? Perhaps some of the Arisen who fell have had their hearts returned, or perhaps the Ur-Dragon and the wyrms have some kind of macabre agreement. Some even say that the Ur-Dragon was the very first Dragon that ever marked an Arisen, and thus it has consumed all fallen Arisen’s hearts since. Not even the pawn legion know for certain, and we know many things."

 

"Then I cannot see Master fall."

 

"No," Barnaby replied with a strange, almost sad-looking smile on his face, "you cannot."

 

 

-x-x-x-

"Arisen… I know you well."

 

The Ur-Dragon’s words puzzled the pawn, as well as his Master. What did the beast meant by them? It was the party’s first time in the Chamber of Lament, so how could the Ur-Dragon known of the Master?

 

Or perhaps Barnaby was right, and that the undead dragon swooping them down upon them did not refer to Master alone, but to all Arisen? As the great beast drew closer, the pawn took note of its great bulk - all of it made of the Arisen’s hearts.

 

One heart was nothing to the Ur-Dragon’s massive form. It must have taken more than thousands and thousands of hearts to forge its body. Would the beast slowly increase in size with each stolen heart? What if those hearts of countless Arisen were what gave the great beast its power - power to be used to kill even more Arisen, so it would grow even larger?

 

He decided that he would not like that.

 

He would not allow  _his_  Arisen to succumb to such a miserable fate.

 

"Fear not, Master," he said, "I will not see you fall."

 

He must have done something to his Master’s liking, for the Master grinned before replying, “I know.”


End file.
